


The Third Thread

by RachaelGold



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Epilogue may be omitted for general audience, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 14:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14546259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachaelGold/pseuds/RachaelGold
Summary: Kathryn and Chakotay have to collaborate on the book of their journey, while Seven is forced into taking a back seat. Their exuberant co-writer forces them to confront their feelings for each other.Setting: a few weeks post Endgame





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written from Kathryn's POV. This was a challenge to myself as I tend to write more from Chakotay's POV. I rather seem to have given her a lot of mood swings here, but perhaps that is what arriving home and having to endure C/7 does to her.

There are some wonderful memories of our time in the Delta Quadrant, and just now we are in stitches about the Doctor shrinking to the height of a flower pot and nobody noticing for a day and half. He was indignant, the look on his face priceless, and he sulked for days afterward. 

The laughter subsides and I wriggle my toes. Damn, he's looking at them again! What is it with him? That must be the third time I've caught him today! 

As if to confirm my thoughts he asks, "Kathryn, since when have you been painting your toe-nails?" 

I feel self-conscious now. Maybe I shouldn't rest my feet on his coffee table. It is rather presumptuous of me. "I always paint them in the Summer," I confess. 

"I never remember noticing before." 

"It never was Summer on Voyager. And I always had my goddawful boots on. Why would I bother to paint my nails if no-one could see my feet?" 

"True, but you must have worn sandals on shore leave sometimes or when we were on that planet…" 

"Waste of resources," I comment, and replace my feet on the floor to withdraw my toes from his view. I shimmy a little back into the soft sofa and reach down to pick up my padd. Damn! He's looking down my blouse now, I swear he is! He's got the most voluptuous girl-friend on the planet out back, and he's studying my cleavage! Anyone would think he'd never noticed the woman underneath my uniform! This is getting awkward. I'll have to think more carefully about what I wear. Well, the only safe thing probably is my uniform, and I really couldn't bear it in this heat!!! "Chakotay, we've got to get on with this. We've been a week and a half on this, and we've hardly merged the two crews yet. We'll never get through! When Collins gets here, he'll go berserk." 

"Humm?" he says, waking out of some sort of a daydream. He throws me one of his sparkling smiles, and I quiver somewhere deep inside. His smiles always do that to me, even though I've been trying to deny it for years. 

It's too late now, I admonish myself. Now that our command responsibilities have been swept away, he's been taken…by somebody I care about deeply. Still, I don't mind. I'm happy for him, really I am. Someone will be along for me. I'm not short of offers, but few of them measure up. I know deep down that nobody will ever come close to matching the man opposite. 

"We must concentrate! We've only written three chapters and we've got a six week deadline! We'll never get it done," I tell him, concerned at our lack of progress on the book Starfleet have commissioned from us. 

"We'll have to prioritise! Be more selective. We can't put everything in. The detail is for the Starfleet treatise, and we'll be given much more time to do that. Collins wants the human story. Let's look at our logs and pick out the things in the first year that will move your average member of the public! Then maybe we can divide them up. We don't have to collaborate on every sentence." 

"Okay!" I say, absently looking at my padd, which is currently loaded with my early personal logs. "Do you think we have to stick rigidly to the chronology?" 

"No, not for this. It's not a Starfleet record, even if it's sanctioned by them." 

"Too bad we've got to rush this. We really should be on leave." 

"Well, we'll get some eventually. Once they've finished with the publicity appearances…" 

"And the book writing." 

"Yes. I thought you said we should be getting on with this?" 

"I did, O taskmaster! Right then, what does Joe Public want to know about?" 

"The Vidiians and Neelix." 

"Yes. Our run-ins with the Kazon?" 

"I guess. Do we have to mention Seska?" 

I glance at him. I know he is sensitive about this, but there will be plenty of things I will want to tread carefully with. "I don't see how we can leave her out. Perhaps you'd like to write that one on your own." He smiles with relief. He is happy with my concession. I hope he will be as gracious with me later. There are many things I am less than proud of. "Tom getting accused of murder?" 

"Yes. Those wonderful spatial distortions emanating from that type-4 quantum singularity?" 

I lift my eyes to his beautiful dark orbs to see if he is serious. He isn't, of course. I can tell by that mischievous twinkle. "No!" we say in unison. 

"Only someone completely and utterly mad would be so riveted by something like that!" he comments. 

"Are you insinuating your erstwhile Captain was a madwoman?" 

"Well, she had her crazy moments…" 

I chuck a cushion at him. "You're not helping…" 

He ducks with a laugh. "Alright. Let's concentrate." 

Seven comes in now with a coffee for me and a tea for Chakotay. When on earth did she become so domesticated? She seems to be adapting well to this relationship business. 

We sigh with relief. The caffeine may help the concentration. 

"You've got her well trained!" I comment, as she leaves. "Not only beautiful, but a domestic goddess as well. You are lucky, Chakotay!" Something clouds his eyes at this, and I wonder if my comment has annoyed him. "She's settling well!" 

"Yes, she is. Aunt Irene's been wonderful." 

"Good. I'm so glad that's working out." 

"You'll meet her later. She's coming over to keep Seven company." 

"Yes, she must be rather put out by all this. She's hardly had any time with you…I do feel rather awkward about that. At this early stage in your relationship, it must be particularly galling to her...well, to you both really. I'd hate to think she was growing resentful of how much of your time I'm monopolising." 

"It's not your fault," he remarks reasonably. "Besides, she'd like some time with you too." 

"We'd better get on with it then." 

We spend a couple of hours dividing out the stories we think should be included. Nothing actually gets written, but at least we are making some progress now. 

Aunt Irene arrives at almost the same time as Daniel Collins, which allows for some time of complete distraction while introductions are made and social niceties are observed. Seven then disappears to the back of the house with her aunt and we are left in the lounge with our co-writer. 

He has been appointed by Starfleet to help us author this book which is to appear in both paper and virtual format in a matter of weeks. They want it to hit the shelves in time for the big round of publicity events they are planning…we've already had to handle a few, but they start in earnest soon. There'll be no leave for us for ages. Chakotay, I, the senior staff (Tuvok excepted given his illness) and Seven are required for weeks yet. Starfleet regard our return from the Delta Quadrant as the publicity coup of the century, and I guess they want to milk it to the extreme. 

Daniel Collins is not pleased. He is an animated man in his late thirties, fair and slightly tousled in appearance. He is a journalist by profession, with a special interest in biography. We have failed miserably to live up to his expectations. Not only have we barely got past the start of our journey…way behind schedule…but we have written it like a Starfleet textbook apparently, full of facts. That's just fine for the subsequent work that will be produced for exactly that purpose (another team are already working on this using our official logs) but he wants the human dimension here. The whole emotional experience. What it felt like to be stranded out there, so alone and so far from home? What went through my head when I destroyed that array? He knows why I did it. I explained that. But how had my decision affected me, and the people on the ship? What were the tensions between the two crews? What went through Chakotay's mind as he chose to agree to meld the crews and serve as First Officer? Did he ever doubt that it was the right thing to do? 

We glossed over some of this, we know we did. Neither of us enjoys exposing our feelings to those around us, let alone baring our souls to the rest of the universe as we know it. We sit there like two chastised children, still unconvinced we're in the wrong and reluctant to own up to something we're not sure we even did. Collins is having a hard job persuading us to divulge more, but slowly he prises some more confessions out of us. He is elaborating on what we say with some enthusiasm, and I begin to fear he will run too far with this if we are not careful. 

Seven and Irene come in with some lunch, which is a welcome relief. Plates of goats' cheese salad are handed round, and I eye it curiously. It comprises of intriguing cubes of cheese and vegetable, all precisely cut and arranged, like miniature Borg cubes! I look at Chakotay in surprise, and his eyes tell me, _"She's got a way to go yet! We have to be patient!"_ I smile in understanding. Did Collins or Irene begin to notice our habit of speaking to each other without words at that moment? Seven, of course, is well used it. It has been a very useful skill at times. 

There is also delicious hot walnut bread, but it turns out to have been Aunt Irene's contribution. Collins supplies some wine. I suspect he is trying to loosen our tongues, and judging by our progress of the afternoon, he has probably succeeded. 

By the time we are preparing to leave we have picked over and added to our account of the beginning of our epic journey. Collins seems satisfied with the material he has, and he is going away to rehash the first three chapters. They will probably bear no resemblance to what Chakotay and I wrote originally. Not only have we supplied more flesh to the story, but he has access to comments made by other members of the crew as well. This makes me a little anxious, but he assures us that we are both shown in an excellent light. We have nothing to worry about at all. The crew have nothing but respect and admiration for their former commanding officers. That doesn't mean to say they are beyond divulging some juicy anecdote though. 

He is concerned about how much of the story we have covered so far, given the time scale, and we are forced to acknowledge there is a problem. We discuss our plans to divide out the work and show him the things we feel we should include from the first year of the journey. He approves the decision and is very happy at what we've decided to include. It seems we've done something right at last. But then he drops the bombshell. 

He tells us he wants to download copies of both our sets of personal logs. Chakotay and I look at each other in horror. Both of us have things in there that are intensely personal. We protest they are private, but Collins isn't backing down. He says there is no way we are going to meet the Starfleet deadline if we don't do so. He tries to tell us he can be trusted with the information and he will respect our authorship. We are perfectly entitled to veto any inclusion in the final book. It's difficult to see him conceding anything willingly though. I'm sure we'll have a fight on our hands to get him to take anything out. 

The argument wages for awhile and Chakotay eventually capitulates, and hands over his data-chips. Collins takes some minutes downloading all the information onto his padd. I am standing there looking like the wicked witch from the west for being so intransigent, so they both start on me to give in. _"What could I possibly have to hide?"_ they say. Well, I can think of a few things right now…and there's no time to delete them. 

All discretion is assured and, before I know it, my own data-chips are being prised from my unwilling hands. Collins goes away jubilant, but my mood is plummeting. We've had such fun collaborating on this over the last ten days, laughing over our memories, gently teasing each other again. It felt like old times. Now, for the first time I am deeply disturbed about where this might be leading. My enthusiasm for writing this book has waned considerably. 

Seven comes in with Irene. She is happy and relieved the meeting is done, and she goes up to Chakotay and hugs him. I am sure all this is very trying for her. She is full of plans for the evening. I decide to make a quick exit. I certainly don't want to stay and watch these two fawning over each other. 

As I walk away from the house, I turn and wave. Chakotay and Seven are lip-locked on the porch. I can't help it. A stab of jealousy pierces me. They look so perfect together. She is beautiful and he is…well he is just Chakotay. Handsome, thoughtful, charming, fun-loving, provocative…everything a woman could want in a man. Well, this woman anyway. 

They have each other now, and they look the picture of domestic bliss. And I? I have an empty apartment to return to. I'm a sad woman with an interesting history, who has made decisions that have cost me my happiness. I don't want to spend time wallowing over it. I know I couldn't have done it differently. I needed a friend and a First Officer out in the Delta Quadrant much more than I needed a lover, and he always understood that. I'd always been grateful for his patient understanding, but nonetheless I'd always lived in hope. That one day we'd be home, and things could be different. That I would be the one standing lip-locked with him on the porch. This above all things had been what kept me going out there. Oh G-d, I've probably said something of the sort in my personal logs! 

Maybe I should get a dog.

* * *

  


The following day I wear jeans and a vest. I am sure the skirt has been distracting Chakotay. We meet early and I show him what I have written about the time when Lieutenant Paris was accused of murder. Chakotay thinks it's well written and engaging. I am glad. I was very tired by the time I wrote it last night. We decide to send the script to Tom, to see if he has any objections. 

Chakotay has not written anything last night. He has devoted the evening to Seven it seems, and I tell him that it is only right that he did. This can't be easy for her. This relationship is very new, and Collins and I have been monopolising him. I offer my sympathy, tell him maybe I should go home, but Chakotay waves my comments away. I find him apologising to me for not having written any more. 

The atmosphere is more subdued than yesterday morning. We almost discuss the reason. I say almost, because it is typical of us not to openly voice our feelings to each other. We comment on our reluctance to go along the road Collins is leading us. We want to tell our story. We are quite happy about that. The battles, the discoveries, the friends and the enemies, the endless struggle to survive. A handful of people succeeding against all the odds. It will all lead to a colourful heroic narrative. But we don't want to expose ourselves in the process, to allow the universe to stare straight into our souls. There are things we don't want the world to know. If we pause to analyse this, our relationship with each other is probably the most precious of these. Instinctively we know that Collins, in possession of our personal logs, has all the ammunition he needs to take us in the direction of his choosing. 

We spend some time discussing, and actually do some writing. Collins isn't visiting today. He's leaving us alone till the middle of next week, but he'll comm us and go through our progress thoroughly. 

Lunch today consists of tuna fish salad. The cubes have been replaced by triangular objects. It doesn't quite work, however. The fish has been reluctant to stay in its tetrahedral form. Aunt Irene has graced us with an amazing raspberry roulade for dessert today, and, to everyone's utter horror, I have seconds. 

Lunch is much more relaxed without Collins there, and I engage Irene in conversation. She is a very resourceful lady, and has really taken Seven under her wing. They will be very good for each other, and I find myself liking her very much. 

She takes Seven out for the afternoon, which somewhat relieves our guilt. We begin to discuss the second year of our journey and what we should include. The treachery of Jonas and Seska have to go in, as do the Tuvix incident, B'Elanna being split into her Klingon and human parts, and Tom's exceeding warp factor 10, but we hopefully won't have to mention the baby lizards. We find there are many things we can happily leave out. Some of Kes's experiences with the manipulative Ocampans, the Q who wanted to die, Chakotay meeting his people's Sky Spirits. These things would mean little to people who had never been more than a few light years from home. They would have no concept of an Ocampan, or a Q or ancient tribal lores. 

Neither of us even mentions our being stranded alone together on a planet for eight weeks or so. Neither of us will want to write it. It will dredge up too many memories. But we also know Collins will call us on it. Two people, a man and a woman, alone on a planet together, with little hope of ever seeing another human again, is a story of magnificent proportions. The human experience on the grandest of scales. Exactly what Collins wants in the book. He will definitely call us on it. 

When we settle down to some writing again, we begin to relax as the afternoon wears on. Chakotay decides to tackle the events covering the period when Seska and the Kazon took the ship from us. He is tackling it with some enthusiasm, I am pleased to see. I settle down to write about Tuvix. I am sure the monumental dilemma I had there will have sufficient impact to keep even Collins happy. 

We are quiet for awhile, but eventually Chakotay starts asking me questions. He cannot bear not to talk to me, I suppose. 

"You're growing your hair again!" 

"Yes," I comment, looking up. 

"Why did you decide to grow it again?" 

"I just did. Do I have to have a special reason?" 

"Well…no." 

"I thought you liked it longer." 

"I do." 

"And you've only just noticed?" 

"No. But I'm writing about the time when I had to cut your hair to start a fire…It sort of reminded me." 

"Well, luckily my hair was longer then, or we'd have frozen to death at night for sure." 

He didn't comment on my implied criticism of his fire-making expertise. What he did say surprised me. "I still have some." 

I looked at him, puzzled. "Whatever for?" 

"Souvenir. I didn't use it all. Stuffed some in my uniform pocket." 

"But why did you keep it?" 

"It reminded me of someone I admired very much." He's watching me carefully, to see what I make of this. 

"Where is it now?" 

"On the upper level, in my medicine bundle." 

"Well, I think you should get rid of it now." 

"Why?" 

"Well, Chakotay," I bluster. Does he really need to ask? "It's hardly appropriate now you're with Seven!" 

"She'll never see it in there. No interest in that sort of thing." 

"That's hardly the point." 

"I don't see the problem. You're still my dearest friend." I throw him a look of disapproval, but let it go. If he wishes to make a fool of himself over a lock of my hair, it's his decision. I am tempted to think that if Seven ever does find it, she'll react badly. 

Collins calls, and he seems a very happy man. He likes what we have been doing, and we send him copies of what we've written since the day before. He never mentions the personal logs, but I get the feeling he is very excited about the project right now, and I wonder what he has read to fuel that. 

As I leave, I tell Chakotay I will stay away for the weekend. I hate playing gooseberry to the two of them, and I want to give them some time alone. Now we have divided quite a lot of the work, we can write just as well, if not better, on our own, and we can always be in contact, if necessary. 

He agrees, but I sense a certain reluctance on his part, or is it just my imagination? Seven is not back yet, and maybe that is why he pulls me into a hug on the porch step. His lips brush my cheek, his warm breath lifts my hair, and I shiver at the touch. The goosebumps break out everywhere, so I pull away quickly. At the gate, I turn and wave. He smiles his big dimpled smile, which does nothing to ease the butterflies that seem to churning up my insides. There is an amazing affection sparkling in his eyes, and I feel truly privileged to have the friendship of this man. I smile fondly back, and turn away again. This is getting so much harder. I love being in his presence, but realistically I know at some point I am going to have to distance myself from him. These knowing looks, these smiles and gestures are going to have to stop. He's in another relationship now. 

Back in my apartment, I replicate myself a meal, and pick half-heartedly at it. 

I give my mother a call, and then finally settle to some writing. I decide to write about the 37's and meeting Amelia Earhart. It was an experience that moved me deeply, and I find the words flowing freely. I write with a passion, and I know when I finally lay down the padd, that Collins will be thrilled with it. Maybe we are getting somewhere. I go to bed in a much happier frame of mind. 

Chakotay calls me several times over the weekend, and we both report significant progress. I get another interesting call, however. On the Saturday afternoon Tom Giles, a Starfleet officer posted to HQ who had been assigned to assist me during debriefings, calls to ask me out to dinner. I readily accept. He was very helpful to me during the first few days after our return, and he's quite good looking too. We got along very well. We both sensed a certain loneliness and sense of loss in each other. He lost his wife a year or so ago, and has two teenage boys. They have gone to their grandmother's for a few days, and he'd love some company. 

The dinner goes well, and so does the coffee and chat afterwards. We end up giving each other the physical comfort both of us need right now, and we've no regrets afterwards. He doesn't stay the night, however. We both agree we are not quite ready to embark on a long term relationship. We part amicably, promising to see each other soon. Who knows where this will lead? 

I send what I have written to Collins, and he seems very pleased. By Sunday evening, I'm counting it as an altogether rather successful weekend. 

On Monday morning, I call Chakotay and say that maybe I'll work from home. I've got a lot done here. Chakotay is something of a distraction, I think. He's not happy. Seven has gone to Sweden with her Aunt for two days. The house is empty. He wants me to come. In fact, he's pretty insistent. I can always go in another room, if I find him annoying. 

I capitulate, and it isn't long before I'm propping my bare feet back on his coffee table again. It is at that moment I remember that I should have worn my jeans. It's too late, however, and I figure that if he wants to study my ankles, then why should I object? If his relationship with Seven is rock solid, it shouldn't be a problem. I wonder how long it will be before I catch him gazing dreamily at my toes. 

Ninety seconds. 

Or my cleavage. 

Eight minutes fifteen seconds. 

I wriggle my toes, and he asks me about my weekend. I tell him it all, including my date. He doesn't seem too enthusiastic about Tom, so we change the subject. 

We start to talk about the illustrations that are going into the book. He starts to tease me about Arachnia and Captain Proton. Of course, I'd rather that missed the cut, but I know I'm not going to get that lucky. Collins already has the images from Tom and the Doctor to illustrate the point. He tells me he thinks I looked damned hot in my costume. Anyone would think he was flirting with me. 

We giggle our way through the morning, and get precious little written. He starts to threaten to tell Collins about all the goings on in Fairhaven. I wrack my brains for something to tease Chakotay about. Apart from an appalling record in shuttle piloting, ridiculous letters to an invisible lover, and some excruciating singing on Talent Nights, there isn't much. I realise that he has considerably more ammunition to wind me up here than I have for him. 

He cooks me a delicious lunch, and we linger over it with a bottle of vintage wine. The atmosphere is decidedly lighter than it had been last Friday. 

Collins calls in the afternoon, still sounding pretty upbeat. We've sent him quite a lot over the weekend, and he's only picking out minor alterations. He tells us he'll come over Thursday afternoon for another big conference. 

At dusk, Tom calls to take me out. He arrives at the door to collect me, armed with a massive bouquet of flowers, and gives me one smackeroo of a kiss. Chakotay greets him civilly, but seems subdued. Maybe he is missing Seven. Or is he jealous? For the first time I wonder if all is not a bed of roses in their relationship. 

Tuesday follows much the same pattern as Monday, and I sense we are falling behind target again. Chakotay definitely is a distraction, but we have spent two happy days collaborating. Tom doesn't meet me tonight. I need to get some writing done. 

On Wednesday, Seven is back with her Aunt. There is a lot of laughter from the two of us and not much productivity, so perhaps I shouldn't be so shocked at lunchtime when Irene takes me aside and asks me what is going on between the two of us. 

I tell her there is nothing going on between us. She thinks we are flirting with each other, and Seven knows we have a history. 

I tell her we have been friends a long time, and there has always been an affectionate rapport between us. As far as I know he only has eyes for Seven, and is very happy with her. Aunt Irene doesn't seem convinced. 

Suitably chastised, I settle to an afternoon of work. I wonder if there is any justification for Irene's disapproval. I've sometimes been known to use my feminine charms on people to get my own way, and I begin to ask myself whether my behaviour could be construed as flirting. I have to concede it could. But if I am guilty of flirting, Chakotay surely is too. We have always been like this with each other, except when we've had a disagreement, and we both know it doesn't mean anything. Still, I decide not to put my feet up on the table, and try to tone down the banter. Chakotay is a proper pest though. He simply won't let up. I try to give him my death glare and make him concentrate on the writing. It doesn't seem to be working. 

* * *

  


Thursday morning comes, and I decide to stay home till after lunch. I simply must write something. We've made precious little headway since Sunday evening. I write copiously on our battles with the Borg, and the integration of Seven into our little Voyager community. This is something I know the public is deeply intrigued about. By the time I roll up at Chakotay's house, I feel I have something to show for my efforts. 

He has written at length on the time the Hirogen took over the ship and made us fight for our lives on the holodeck. We exchange what we have written, and make suitably encouraging and helpful comments. 

At 14.00 hours, Daniel Collins breezes in and we settle down to the serious business of collaborating. 

He waves a padd triumphantly at us. "The first hundred pages. I will let you read them later. I think you will be impressed. We are really getting somewhere here. This has the makings of a really gripping story. It has everything: adventure, danger, deception, loss, love, heart-break, self-sacrifice, survival against the odds. But I really felt we needed a thread to pull it all together. A fabric on which to weave the frame of our narrative." 

"Daniel, the thread is the journey. And the ship," I comment. 

"Yes, yes. Both of those things. I knew that before we began. So does the rest of the universe. But a rope composed of three threads intertwined is very strong. It can tug and it can twist. It can snare and bind. It can entwine you in its coils. It is a most amazingly powerful thing. And I have that third thread. And it is the most engrossing of the three! And the best thing of all is…the public don't know it yet!" 

We look at him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Whatever is he on about? 

"Well?" says Chakotay. 

"I'll come back to it later. Like a good storyteller, I will leave you in suspense. Now what have you to show me?" 

We pass over our latest efforts, and he seems suitably pleased. "Good, good. But I am concerned about time again. We are not nearly as far ahead as I'd hoped to be. Chakotay, I want you to overlook the fifth year and make a start on it. I know we haven't finished the third and fourth yet, but we need to be pushing on. I thought the incident where species 8472 had a mock up of Starfleet HQ was extremely intriguing. I thought you would be best placed to get to grips with that!" 

"Certainly. I can do that," Chakotay agrees. 

"Kathryn, this is going to sound weird, but I want you to start work on the end of the story." This surprises me, but he goes onto explain himself. "It is one of the most important parts of the tale, one of the major anchor points. It's got to be good. We can't afford to mess it up. So we don't want to be rushing it with almost no time left. We can always skip some bits in the middle, but…" 

"That does make sense." 

"Good. It can cause some problems with continuity, but I'll have my team work on it to ensure that there are no major slip ups. Now let me tell you what I want. 

We need to know the main events which brought you back to the Alpha Quadrant, and those just after. But I don't just want the facts. I want the whole experience. I want to know what it felt like to see your older self emerging from the temporal rift. I want to know how she reacted to seeing you all. I want to know why you agreed to go along with her. How did she persuade you? Did you have any misgivings about sending her to almost certain death, or if not death something far worse. What did she say to you before she left? 

I want the bumps and thrills of the trans-warp conduit. I want the sense of tension as you wait to see if the ship will make it through. I want the wonder and relief as you enter open space….and suddenly the viewscreen is filled with Fleet ships, and familiar stars are in the sky. And I want much more!" 

I sigh. This sounds like a tall order. 

"You can do this. Kathryn, you are quite capable of rising to the challenge. I've listened to a lot of your logs. I know you can do it." 

"I'll try," I offer. 

"Can I ask you about the Admiral?" 

"Of course." 

"Why did she do it? What was her motivation?" I frown in concentration. Whatever did I say in my logs? Surely Collins has read them by now. 

"Surely some of this is classified by the temporal prime directive. We'll have to be careful…" 

"Pshht, let Starfleet worry about that. If they want anything removed, they'll pretty soon say so. I refuse to let that restrict my vision. So?" 

I sigh with resignation. "She didn't want Voyager to take another sixteen years to get home. She didn't want another twenty-two people to be killed. Maybe she wanted to come back in a blaze of glory, instead of limping back in a tired old ship." 

"Yes, yes, but there was a little more to it, wasn't there?" 

"You've read my logs." 

"Yes I have. But I wanted to get you to say it. I want you to open up to me!" 

"In what way?" 

"There was someone specific she came back for, wasn't there?" 

I wriggle uncomfortably. I am really not enjoying this. "You mean Seven?" 

"I do mean Seven. The Admiral told you she was going to die, didn't she? She came back to prevent it." 

"Yes." Chakotay is staring at me in astonishment. I thought he would already know this from Seven. 

"And there was someone else, wasn't there?" 

I simply look at him. I'm not at all sure what he is getting at. 

"Chakotay!" he adds. He sees the shock in my eyes, and he looks triumphant. "She cared about Chakotay so much that she wanted to spare him the pain of the next sixteen years." 

"Well, yes." 

"She was something of a tragic figure, wasn't she?" 

"Yes," I agree, and I begin to wonder whether I am going to have any say in what goes into this part of the story. 

"She loved Chakotay so much, she ignored the temporal prime directive and took incalculable risks with the space-time continuum, so that his wife wouldn't die and he wouldn't end up a broken man!" 

"Yes!" 

"But, you see, that doesn't quite make sense to me. I've read both your logs, and she had exactly the same experiences as you up until the point she came back, didn't she? And the Chakotay she knew was essentially the exact same Chakotay as you knew just a few weeks ago?" 

"Well, yes!" 

"So I'm not buying it. That Chakotay wouldn't have been so heartbroken over the loss of his wife! That Chakotay has misgivings about dating her now, because he has feelings for someone else." 

Chakotay is the one who is squirming now. "Now wait a minute, how can you…" he says in a tone of outrage, but Collins won't let him interrupt. 

"Let me finish with this!" 

"Daniel, are you deliberately trying to provoke us here?" I ask. 

"Well…I am looking for a passionate response, yes. I put it to you that Chakotay would have eventually gotten over his wife's death, because he still had the person he most cared about deep down. So I believe the main reason that he ended up a broken man was something quite different. I think it was because you two became estranged after he married!" 

"She never said anything of the sort. This is pure speculation!" I say. 

"No, we will never know. It will always be a mystery." He leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin on his face. "But I have my third thread, you see. This is about the journey. This is about the ship. And this is about one huge tragic trans-galactic love affair!" 

"Excuse me?" 

"You and Chakotay. You have loved each other from almost the moment you first met!" 

There is a stunned silence. Chakotay and I are both looking at him in horror. And I am hoping against hope that Seven can't hear any of this from out back. 

"You can't be serious!" I say. 

"Oh, I am. Very serious." 

"But you cannot possibly have any evidence to support your theory!" 

"Oh, I have. To begin there are your personal logs. I've lifted whole passages word for word, as you will see directly. Then there are the numerous comments from your crew. They've been quite voluble on the subject. Then there are all the images I have to hand, which will illustrate the point perfectly. You do make an incredibly attractive couple, by the way. And there's one other thing." He pauses for effect. "One thing you both conveniently forgot to mention, which in itself speaks volumes. We're well into the third and fourth year, and yet something very significant happened in the second year, didn't it? Something you've both avoided writing about! Something so intense, so unusual in the realm of human experience, that it is completely unthinkable that it should have been left out!" 

"Oh G-d!" I say, without thinking. I knew Collins was going to call us on this. I feel about the size of the flower-pot Doctor. 

Chakotay is looking rather mystified, and Collins turns. "See, she knows exactly what I'm talking about!" I watch his face as the light dawns. "Does the Angry Warrior speech ring any bells? It makes a lovely little inclusion into the narrative." 

"You recorded that in your log?" I ask incredulously. 

Chakotay looks momentarily embarrassed. "Why yes! I wanted to remember what I'd said. Isn't that what personal logs are for?" 

"But that's just it. They're personal. You don't just hand them over to any Tom, Dick or Harry to read, let alone publish for the rest of the universe to snigger over." 

Chakotay sits back. He is beginning to calm down. Now that the shock is over, he seems more comfortable with this. 

"Trust me, there will be no sniggering." 

Trust him? Is he crazy? I hear Chakotay graciously offer to write the story of our sojourn on New Earth. Now that Collins has read his little speech, I suppose he feels he has nothing left to hide. He is not ashamed of how he felt, he says. 

Collins is pleased with his offer. He warms to his theme. "This has all the elements of a beautiful tragic love story. The woman sent to capture a renegade. Two enemies stranded at the far end of the universe, seventy years from home, forced to work together in order to survive. Two people who first meet face to face on the Bridge of Voyager. The air crackles with tension. Their instinct is to fight, but some power holds them back. The captor and the captive, who fall almost instantly in love. They meld their crews, become Captain and First Officer. Together they form a formidable team. They stand side by side through countless dangers and hardships. Fight all the most terrifying demons the Delta Quadrant has to offer. Every day is a struggle for survival and resources. Yet, against all the odds they make it home. 

Seven years and seventy thousand light-years, they live in denial. They deny themselves happiness, they deny their feelings to each other and they even deny their feelings to themselves. They refuse to give into the temptation to live and love out there. Commanding officers must set the standards and adhere to the rule book. Commanding officers cannot allow themselves to be distracted from their work. They must be beyond reproach. Commanding officers cannot be happy, when the rest of the crew is parted from the people they love. So they sacrifice themselves for the sake of the ship, never speaking the words that would plainly reveal the truth to each other. 

The time ticks by and the burden of denial weighs them down. And…this is the most tragic part…days from home he decides to move on. He gives his heart to another. And so we have the beautiful woman Captain, all alone. A tragic heroine, who loses one love at the beginning of the journey only to lose another at the end." 

Silence falls and my insides have turned to jelly. I have faced the Borg, the Kazon and the Hirogen, but none of them have made me feel like this. The problem is that Collins has a weapon far more dangerous than any of them. The truth. Chakotay has gone very quiet. I think he is trying to decide how much of this is true. Whilst his feelings for me during the early years of the journey were fairly obvious to all around, I think I did a better job of concealment. 

"Starfleet will never approve this!" I comment. 

"I think they will. I intend to write this as a heroic sacrifice." 

"And we have a veto…" 

"I hope you won't feel the need to use it," he says in a more placatory tone. "I think you should reserve judgement for the time being." 

There is a long silence. I look at Chakotay, and he looks resigned. I still can't bring myself to agree. 

A padd is pushed into my hands. "The first hundred pages," comments Collins. "Turn to page thirty-three and you'll see what I mean." 

Mechanically, I scroll down, and find the marker. Words lifted straight from my log. Chakotay finds the same spot in his copy, and my voice fills the room. 

_Kathryn Janeway personal log. Stardate 48869.2_

_I have to admit Chakotay is shaping up as the model First Officer. My first gut instincts appear to be correct. He anticipates my every need, and suffers a great deal of my idiosyncrasies without complaint. He has done exceptionally good work in melding the two crews. There has been some dissension in the Maquis ranks, minor infractions at this stage, but they must not be allowed to get out of hand. I believe he has dealt with them firmly and fairly._

_On a personal level, he is becoming more to me than just a friend. I have never felt so at ease with a man, and I find myself looking forward to our time alone together. We enjoy each others' company, and while away many happy evenings together over a bottle of wine._

_I must say the man is too handsome for his own good. He has the most amazing twinkling dark eyes and a disarming smile that melts your insides, and I sense his attraction to me. I am going to have to watch myself. If I weren't an engaged woman, I'm sure I'd be falling for him big time. I watch his hands sometimes. He has masterful hands, nimble, skilful. The hands of a warrior, craftsman, lover. I'm sure he excels at all of these. I cannot help but imagine what we would be like together, what it would be like to be his lover. I live in wonder of what it would feel like to be touched by those hands….."_

My own hands are shaking. My G-d, did I really record this? 

Chakotay looks up at me with exactly those self-same twinkling eyes. "Did you really write this?" he says, echoing my very thoughts. 

"Well, I must have done. That certainly is my voice." 

"Kathryn Janeway, I never knew you had such wicked thoughts about me!" He looks like a man who has suddenly stumbled upon some juicy revelation. Damn it, he's enjoying my discomfort. Why should it surprise him? I always was a woman under that uniform. "And you had the nerve to ask me why I handed over my logs with that speech in them!" 

"I accept there is some editing to be done, but don't think you've escaped, Chakotay!" Collins' voice breaks in. "Try page forty-six. You both seem to have a fixation for hands." We both scroll down to find an extract from Chakotay's personal log. 

_Has she any idea what she does to me? How thoughts of her fill my waking hours, and many of my sleeping ones too? One smile and my day is made. One touch and I am thrilled to the core. And the amazing thing is she seems oblivious to her effect on me. Oblivious to her own power. Unaware of her own beauty._

_I find myself watching her for ages. I can get away with it for a long time without her noticing. I have a feeling others have noticed, but to be honest I am beyond caring. She is a beautiful woman. She would deny it absolutely if you asked her. She has grace and poise. In a good mood, she is absolutely charming. Her eyes sparkle, and she has the most endearing crooked smile. I am mesmerised by the way the light shines on her hair. And then she has the most perfect ears…neat, pale, delicate. I love it when, at the end of the day or a particularly hard workout, her hair escapes its meticulous confinement and the wayward tendrils feather her ears. The effect is so enchanting. Then there are those beautiful slender manicured hands! You'd never guess from her elegant fingers that she spends so much time in Jefferies tubes helping out the engineering team._

_Never let this slender woman fool you, though. She has all the backbone necessary to steer us through these dangerous waters. She is equipped with a profound strength. Enough to be more than a Captain to this ship. Anyone who has ever crossed her knows what it is like to face her wrath. She has an incredible way of making people feel they have let her down. She instils a deep loyalty in her crew. Her Starfleet crew adore her, and I suspect much of the Maquis crew are being won over too, as they get to know and trust the woman who is their new Captain. I can only say her First Officer is totally smitten. I think I was from almost the outset. I would follow this woman to hell and back. My hope is to be always by her side, in whatever capacity she will allow. But my heart hopes for so much more…_

My eyes are full of tears. This is all too much. I cannot take anymore. I fight it for a few moments. I try to tell myself Starfleet Captains never blubber, but fail miserably. The sorrow bubbling up threatens to overwhelm me, and I can't even look at Chakotay. I escape to the bathroom before I completely crack up in front of these two men. Their eyes follow me out of the room questioningly. I take ten minutes to calm myself and make myself presentable again. I walk stiffly downstairs and take my leave. I'm not putting myself through anymore of this today. 

I hurry home and shutter myself away to deal with this. I feel so raw, so exposed. I don't want the universe to think of me as tragic. And I certainly don't want Chakotay thinking so. During the evening, Chakotay calls several times, Tom and Collins call too. I leave the calls unanswered, and the unit records their messages. Chakotay is worried about me. Collins is attempting to smooth the waters. Tom wants another date. He's out of luck. 

I am going to have to make Collins prune his epic tale of human sacrifice considerably. We aren't writing a cheap torrid romance story here. We're writing about endurance, survival and companionship. Collins may have uncovered a truth here, but it is one small thread woven amongst a myriad of others. How can he possibly think it of such huge significance? 

* * *

  


The following morning, I feel stronger. I haven't slept much, but the morning brings a fresh perspective. I am home, I am still young enough to make a go of a new relationship, and I have an admiralcy in the offing…that's if Starfleet don't see me as a liability after this. 

I saunter up Chakotay's path feeling ready to deal with this. I wear a neat blouse and a flowing skirt. I look attractive, I know I do. Why should I dress down to keep his eyes off me or meet with Aunt Irene's approval? 

Chakotay grins widely as I arrive and pulls me into a big hug. 

"How are you? I was worried." 

"I'm okay. I felt as if Collins was ripping us apart yesterday. We can't let him print all that stuff!" 

"Don't worry. I think there will be some discretionary editing. All that was just to provoke us into revealing ourselves to him." 

"He had our logs. What more did he want?" 

"An end to the denial?" 

We look at each other, trying to gauge our thoughts. Without saying anything, we know that what was said yesterday was substantially the truth. 

"I'll get you a coffee," he offers. 

"Thanks." 

I go into the lounge and settle myself in my usual spot in the corner of the sofa. I notice idly that he has moved the rug. The coffee table is still there. I slip my sandals, and put my bare feet up on the table. 

Chakotay comes in with two mugs, and settles in his usual spot directly opposite. 

We sip our drinks quietly for a few moments. 

"Is Seven out?" 

He looks at me carefully. "Seven's gone." 

"Gone where?" 

"Gone back to Sweden with her Aunt." 

"Oh." I am not sure what he is saying here. 

"She's gone for good," he explains. 

"Oh, Chakotay! I am sorry!" A crowd of thoughts rush my mind. What does this mean? For all three of us? I wonder if I should cross the room and hug him, but I have to be more cautious now. I am struggling to evaluate if this means any change in our relationship. 

"Don't be. We parted amicably. We weren't right for each other, and, to tell the truth, I'm relieved." 

"Did she overhear yesterday?" 

"Not exactly. She sensed something though. It brought everything to a head, but it had been coming for a while." 

"Is she alright?" 

"She's fine. She tells me what happened between us was something like a teenage crush. I think her Aunt was a bit persuasive too. Thought she could do a lot better, with someone a lot nearer her age and with fewer...complications." 

"She needs someone who understands what she's been through!" 

"Kathryn, we can't keep her under our wing forever. We have to let her find her own way. Besides, I have a feeling Aunt Irene is exactly the right person to oversee her assimilation into the earthly collective. By the way, you don't bother asking if I'm alright?" he complains. 

"I can see you're just fine!" I comment with a smile, and he smiles back. "So you won't have written anything?" 

"No. Have you?" Stupid question. Obviously neither of us has been in a frame of mind for writing since we were last together. I wrinkle my nose, and he understands my answer. "Well, we'd better get to it. Collins is coming at midday." 

We settle down to write and Chakotay tells me is going to tackle New Earth. He seems quite happy at the prospect. After all it was one of the happiest times of his life. 

I make a start with the Admiral appearing through the temporal rift, but I cannot concentrate, particularly as I begin to be distracted by the man opposite. 

He decides to bare his own feet and put them on the coffee table too. He places his soles against mine, and we are both struck by how much bigger his massive paws are than mine. His toes must be a centimetre or two higher. He wriggles them, in a way that I've been inclined to do recently, and I wriggle mine back in response. It has echoes of a moment far away in time and space...involving hands, not feet. 

I throw him a smile, breathing deeply to try to still my thumping heart, and then look down at the words floating around my padd. 

He fidgets. Damn, he is so distracting. Anyone would think he was playing footsie with me. And now what? He stretches one foot out as far as he can, and I feel his toes rubbing my ankle. He tries desperately to hook the hem of my skirt and push it upwards. 

"Chakotay, what do you think you are doing?" 

He's looking at me with that mischievous twinkle again. "Trying to seduce my former Captain!" he tells me. My heart leaps. Of course he is, but I wanted to be sure I wasn't misreading this. 

"Chakotay, Seven is hardly out the door and you're charging weapons?" 

He grins. "My dear Kathryn, my weapons have been armed and ready for seven years!" Our eyes lock, and a myriad of emotions are silently exchanged in an intense play between us. "For you, I mean!" he adds, just in case I didn't catch his meaning. My breath hitches. He withdraws his feet and stands. "You see, I want to force Daniel Collins into a rewrite. I don't like unhappy endings." 

I smile now. I am very much in accord here. He comes round the table and settles beside me, his breath dusting my ear, and…oh sweet heaven… one of those warm skilful hands is wrapping itself around my calf. "You see, in everything he said yesterday, there was only one thing he got wrong!" 

"Oh?" 

"I haven't given my heart to somebody else." 

His lips meet mine, and I surrender to the spell. They are warm, sweet, and simply delicious. 

He breaks away again, watching me with those gorgeous brown eyes. But they look so different. I have never seen them so hot with desire before. "And, if I remember it correctly, you once expressed a pretty strong desire to find out what I could do with these hands!" My padd drops to the floor, forgotten now as my pulse begins to race. I feel the muscles in a secret dark place give a little involuntary clench of excitement. I don't manage to string any words together in response to this, so he continues, pushing my skirt up around my thighs. "Well, Kathryn Janeway? Did you really say that?" 

"Yes…" 

"Still want to find out?" 

"Oh…yes!" I breathe. 

And this is when I find out exactly what incredible things he can do with those magnificent hands. Oh, you think I'm going to tell you, do you? Tough luck! This isn't some torrid romance novel! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, alright then, if you insist!  
> Epilogue (See Chapter 2)


	2. Chapter 2

__

_Kathryn Janeway: Very personal log!!!!!  
G-d only knows what the Stardate is. I am past caring._

His lips are quite simply melting me, and I feel his fingers tease their way to what at the moment feels like the very centre of my own personal universe. There is a sudden rush of cool air, as I feel my underwear slip away, and then the fingers are back, flicking, rubbing, probing, spreading the moisture, yet igniting the fire. Oh, heaven they are talented! Within seconds, I am dissolving into a quivering mass and am teetering on the brink of some mind-blowing orgasm. 

"Chakotay," I gasp, "pleeeeease….I can't stop…." 

There is a little chuckle of pleasure from him, and his voice penetrates my foggy mind. "Let it go, Kathryn. There'll be plenty more!" And I do. I shatter into a million pieces. Explosively and noisily. 

He laughs appreciatively as I come down from my high. I laugh too, at the sheer magnitude of it all. "Beautiful!" he comments with a kiss. "I've always wondered how you would look…and it was simply beautiful! So...how did it feel to have my fingers caress your body?" 

"Absolutely amazing, Chakotay!" I answer breathlessly. 

"It was good, huh?" 

"Absolutely wonderful." 

"Well...I...bet...I can make you come three times before Collins gets here," he says seductively. I laugh again at this, hardly able to respond in any other way. Am I capable of this? In the right hands...and his are most definitely the right hands...I know I am. "And by the way," he adds, "I love you….in case you hadn't realised." 

A few breaths later, I manage to open my mouth. "I love you too, Chakotay…in case you hadn't realised." He settles for kissing me for a while, and boy is he passionate! His masculine scent fills my head, and his lips work mine masterfully. 

He slides me down onto the misplaced rug, and for a moment I simply savour the gentle throbbing afterglow between my legs, the pulse of life that has been re-ignited deep inside me. Suddenly a cushion appears under my head. I realise at this moment, that he has planned all this. He looms over me and smiles. After a few more kisses, he begins to undo the tiny buttons of my blouse with two shaky hands. We laugh together at the fumble he is making of it, and I lift my hands to assist but he brushes them away. "Let me. I want to do this. We're only going to get one first time!" 

I smile in anticipation and savour the slow progress of his hands. There are so many of those damned buttons! But he succeeds, and he sweeps my blouse open. Then he undoes the catch at the front of my bra, exposing my breasts to his gaze. My breath catches and the seconds tick by as he devours me with his eyes. I feel a twinge of anxiety…I must have so much less than Seven. But a smile hovers on his lips and his eyes speak lovingly to me. They speak of awed delight and of perfection. There is no denying the radiant admiration in them. I arch my back reflexively, impatient to bring the nipples closer to his mouth, and he takes the hint at last and sets about propelling me back into the vortex of arousal. I am rather surprised at how quickly he is succeeding. 

I begin to feel this is rather one sided, and with a struggle I remove his shirt and expose his magnificent chest. I place tiny kisses on his shoulders and neck, and he moans in response. What a joy it is to have this effect on him! Then I reach for the fastenings of his pants, eager to get my hands on a part of his anatomy I have many times painted in my imagination. I succeed briefly, as one hand brushes hot silky skin, rigid and pulsing. He gasps, then pulls my hands away, clamping them above my head. 

"Uh, uh, naughty girl!" he scolds me. "No touching till I tell you. I'm the captain around here!" My momentary frustration vanishes, as I decide this sounds rather erotic. Maybe I am actually getting to find out what it is really like to serve under him. 

He pushes my legs apart, testing my readiness with his fingers. Then I feel it…a monstrous pressure promising entrance, and I want it. Oh G-d, I want it so badly. I want to filled completely with him. I want him to pound into me with everything he's got. But he holds it there, and I wonder what he is waiting for. 

"Can you feel me?" he asks. 

"Oh yes," I sigh. 

"Savour it," he instructs. "This is the moment, Kathryn. We become one flesh." 

"Yes, yes!" How can he possibly be holding this? I am struggling with my own frustration. 

"And it's for keeps. Okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Kathryn, open your eyes. I want us to look into each other's eyes as we do this." 

With effort, I respond and meet his gaze. I see at once the strain he is putting himself under to hold back. But the love, devotion and desire I read sear into my soul. Then at last he pushes, and I feel myself stretch unbelievably. No more is my dark secret place a secret to the man I love. It spasms in delight at the monstrous invasion. It welcomes him in. Swallows him greedily. And the feeling is utterly incredible. 

* * *

  


True to his word, he does manage to make me climax three times. After the last, I lie there limp as a jellyfish and totally sated as he softens inside me, and he comments that the time is getting on. We should clean ourselves up. 

I laugh at the sudden image of Collins arriving early, getting no answer and deciding to peer through the lounge window. If he does, he will see the subjects of his book partially clothed and locked intimately on the floor, the heroine's legs wrapped around the hero's back. 

"It's enough to give him apoplexy!" I comment on the prospect. 

"Oh, I don't know. I think he would be rather fired up by discovering a new passionate ending to the saga. Besides, he's old enough to understand people our age still do it." 

"And do it rather well, if I might say so." 

"Yes," he agrees with a kiss. 

"Do you always talk so much when you make love?" 

"Not always. But we've spent so many years avoiding telling each other what we really feel, that I thought it important that we make a concerted effort to change right from the beginning." I agree. He is absolutely right. "I want us to tell each other exactly what we like, how we like to be touched," he continues. "I want us to talk about things freely. Intimate things. I know we can have the most incredible sex life." 

I smile. "Okay." Is that all I can manage? One single word answer? I am a Starfleet Captain, and I can barely string a sentence together! Truth is, I am rather overwhelmed by all this. 

"And tell each other what we don't like too, because, Kathryn, I want you to come home from work and walk up that path wetting yourself with anticipation at what I'm going to do to that lovely body of yours when I get hold of it…" 

What can I say? I am almost speechless. He is full of surprises today, and I feel I am being swept along in a whirlwind. "Alright," I answer. 

He slips out of me and rolls onto his back beside me. I wince as he does so, and he reaches to squeeze my hand. 

"My poor love, are you sore?" 

"A little," I confess. He has given me a long, hard hammering, but I have loved every delicious moment of it. 

"Never mind," he says suggestively, as he gets up and begins to straighten his clothes. "Tonight...I'll kiss it better!" 

I quiver at the thought and I notice his own eyes are twinkling at the prospect. Then he reaches out a hand to help me up. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me softly. "Would you like a shower before he gets here?" 

"Please. I rather think I need it." 

"Go on, then. Replicate yourself any clothes you want. I'll tidy up down here." 

He kisses me and pushes me towards the door, with a squeeze of my buttock as he does so. At the door I turn and smile at him. He smiles back, more relaxed than I have seen him in ages. We mouth words of love to each other. This relationship is going to be wonderful. Stormy at times perhaps, but wonderful. We are going to soar together. 

* * *

  


The shower refreshes me completely, and afterwards I replicate some clean clothes. I feel a different woman. I look at myself in the mirror of the dresser and wonder if that beautiful, sexy woman is really me. I actually look different. Happier, more satisfied. My eyes are sparkling and it's hard to keep the smile off my face. I cannot believe the reflection I see. 

I begin to brush my hair dry, and Chakotay comes in like an angel of mercy with a cup of coffee. He puts down the mug, and pulls himself in close behind me, wrapping his arms across my belly. 

He kisses me behind my ear, and I shiver with delight. "I can't wait to get you completely naked," he breathes into my ear. "Then I can ravish every square inch of your body!" I shiver again...he makes me feel so damned hot! He only needs to talk to me in that seductive tone now, and I begin to tremble. 

"Well...I'm afraid you'll have to wait till Daniel has gone." 

"Do you want to invite him, or shall I?" 

For a moment I am puzzled. "To what?" 

"Our wedding." 

"We're getting married?" 

"Oh, yes. As soon as possible. No arguments." He casts me a saucy grin in the mirror. "I'm the captain around here!" 

For a moment, I hesitate. He is certainly masterful today. Am I comfortable with that? Am I too used to having things my own way? Or is it time to let him steer the ship? 

"Okay," I hear myself say. A quiet and accepting response. It's all that's needed. And it's time. 

"Good," he says. "That's exactly how the story should end." 


End file.
